The Argosy — page 307: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

284 A Marriage in the Dark. enthusiasm which I had devoted to piano-practice would have been sadly wasted had I not become a tolerable mistress of the key-board. In a lesser degree Dr. Saxon shared my musical raptures. He was himself a respectable violin player, and one result of our numerous duets was that we became fast friends. A first friendship is generally a significant episode in one’s exis- tence, but to me it was something far more. It was both an awakening and a revelation. All the pent-up sympathies of years rushed along this new outlet, life became a changed thing, full of fresh hopes and wider possibilities, and containing, as it seemed, com- pensations, even for me. Without being consciously in love with Dr. Saxon, I yet felt that he was becoming indispensable to my existence. I was standing, one evening in early autumn, by the French window which opened out upon our little lawn. I knew by the time, and by a certain indefinite sensation which it always produces in me, that the sun was near its setting, and I happened to be seized with one of the vain fits of helpless longing, and impotent resentment, with which I occasionally varied the monotony of resignation. It was the old, weary, futile lament that I indulged in now and then, for the sake of the relief it brought me, but of which I was, none the less, heartily ashamed. “Oh! that I could pierce the veil and see God’s daylight again! Oh! for a glimpse of the free wide sky, touched into glory by the setting sun! For that, I would willingly give up the balance of my life. What, indeed, is life to me? A poor, helpless wretch, a burden to myself, and utterly useless to others.” ‘ Pardon me, Miss Urquhart, but I think your life may yet be of great use to others. And as for your burden, your friends will endeavour to make it light for you.” I had spoken my Jeremiad aloud, as was my wont when I thought myself alone, and so pre-occupied was I that even my keen hearing failed to detect Dr. Saxon’s quick step across the lawn. It was the first time that the subject of my blindness had been, even indirectly, hinted at between us, and I felt myself blushing with shame and mortification. It was certainly annoying to be thus caught unpacking one’s soul with words, and such weak ones. ‘What will you think of me, doctor? Iam afraid my reputation for fortitude is gone. It is very unlucky that you should have over- heard my lamentations. But they do not mean very much. A kind of moral safety-valve ; that’s all.” The doctor took my light speech for what it was worth, and answered gravely and gently. ‘¢Dear Miss Urquhart, I think, for my part, that you bear your affliction with admirable resignation.” ‘ Admirable indeed, when I was railing, in good set terms, at things in general, two minutes ago.” CONMIECLIOOKS.(E@) m